


Little Things

by CleverLines_Unread_CleverNapkins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bar Scenes, Jealousy, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 04:31:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14927183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CleverLines_Unread_CleverNapkins/pseuds/CleverLines_Unread_CleverNapkins
Summary: When Gabriel starts hunting with the Winchesters, he starts to notice that at least one of the brothers treating him.. a little differently. This is the story of those little things he starts to notice, and what he decides to do about it.





	Little Things

It was the little things that Gabriel noticed. 

Gabriel had been traveling around with the Winchesters for a month and a half now, helping to save the world one monster at a time. He had had the sudden epiphany one day, after running into the hunters in Missouri; he realized that he had been a Trickster for far too long. It was a tiring business, devising elaborate schemes to drop on unsuspecting people - I mean, the people deserved it, but still. After a few millennia, it just doesn't have the same thrill. 

And it might have had something to do with the Winchesters catching onto his trail and threatening his life with certain death if he didn't quick his "cheap tricks." Personally, the Angel had taken offense to that - his tricks were the ingenious! - but wasn't looking for a fight with the nation's most feared hunters. 

So, he agreed to.. postpone.. a few of the pranks he had had planned. But, without the fun of giving people what they deserve, the Archangel got bored. Fast. 

Which led him to the backseat of the Impala, squished between a window and a sleeping Sam Winchester. 

*.*.*.*

It was little things at first, things that, on their own, Gabriel wouldn't have thought twice about; however, putting all of them together, and Gabe had no problem connecting the dots. 

The few times that the four of them got booths in the diners they frequented, Gabriel would always slide in first and each and every time, without fail, Sam would slide in next to him. And each and every time the younger Winchester would scoot in, sliding just a bit too far until their thighs would be pressed against each other. Of course, they wouldn't stay like that for long; Sam would readjust without even a glance until they were a suitable distance away. 

When they all stopped for gas, Sam would go in the little shop while Dean filled the tank - an arrangement they'd had for years, an almost unspoken agreement - and Sam would come out with an armful of snacks for the road. There was the obvious stuff, like water bottles, gum, chips, maybe a bag of Taquitos if they didn’t look too suspicious in the slow rotator inside - and on those rare days when Dean was just being a little too… Dean, even if they did look suspicious. 

And out Sam would swagger, sunglasses on, hair blowing as he looked at their surroundings, and he’d slide into the seat with ease that someone his size shouldn’t have, and toss a bag of M&M’s to Gabriel without looking over and taking whatever goodie he snagged for himself, would leave the rest of the bag on the front seat for Dean to sort through once he was done filling up. Gabriel didn’t have to eat. Everyone in the car knew it, Castiel never even pretended, and Gabriel never really asked about getting food for himself. He didn’t totally enjoy eating, he had enjoyed dining at nice restaurants for the experience more than anything else before he joined the Hunters, but out on the road, the candy was more for the team’s morale than anything else. 

The snacks surprised him at first, making him jump, but after the third time, he was almost expecting it, and uttered a “thanks,” to which Sam had just waved a hand half-heartedly at his direction, though his ears looked slightly more red than they had before. 

Once Gabriel noticed this, he started seeing the patterns.

Strategy meetings were loud and graceless, and Gabriel tried to stay out of it for the most part. If it was particularly harebrained and the brothers forgot that they had very powerful angelic beings on their side, then he would interject, but otherwise, he was content to simply tag along and improvise as needed. 

But in those times that he did talk, Sam would turn his whole attention to him. Unapologetically so. No matter who was talking or proposing. It drove Dean crazy, which gave Gabriel a smug sort of satisfaction. 

And even when Gabriel opted not to talk, and the three of them would break to go get their gear together and prepare to head out, Sam would always, without fail, stop Gabriel and double check the plan with him, and ask if he was comfortable with it. Which was silly because he was the almost invincible Archangel, and Sam was the mortal, so really, Gabriel should have been the one to double check with Sam. 

Gabriel couldn’t even pretend that he didn’t get a little thrill every time Sam turned to him with those big doe eyes and showed his concern. No one else really was ever concerned about him like that. He wanted to keep it around as much as possible. 

For a while, he tried not to analyze why he felt this way… 

But then it kept happening. And Gabriel got stir crazy after not actively meddling for so long. So he had to intervene. 

*.*.*.*

_Start small_ Gabriel thought - something as a teaser, to gauge the interest. To see if his intuition was actually right or not. 

Nicknames were innocent enough, but thrown in at the right moment… 

 

“Thanks, Love.” 

Gabriel didn’t look up from the crossword puzzle he was working on. He could feel Sam freeze up, his hand stilling where it was mid-passing the Angel a coffee. 

Peeking up through his lashes, Gabriel caught Sam’s eyes on him. “Sam?” he asked. 

The Winchester blinked rapidly, shaking his head to clear it as he let go of the to-go coffee cup. “Yeah, sorry.” He walked back to the hotel bed, putting his own coffee on the nightstand to check his gear one more time before they loaded up the Impala. Gabriel studiously kept his eyes on his newspaper, but he could feel Sam’s eyes on his back periodically. 

 

The Impala was gross. Dean was pissed. 

They each were covered in blood and ichor, the seat backs covered in it, the dashboard and upholstery stained a deep, sticky black. . Dean was in the front seat, hands rigid on the wheel as he studiously tried to ignore the stains drying on the passenger seat from where the demon had thrown itself. 

The battle had not gone as planned - thinking that the battle was over after dispatching the two demons they had anticipated, they ad begun the cleanup process, Dean starting the car as Sam bandaged up a cut by the trunk. It was then when a third demon materialized out of nowhere. She went for Dean, as Gabriel was the largest threat and closer to Sam, and slid into the passenger seat easily. 

She gripped Dean by the throat, and being the quick thinker that Gabriel was, hearing Dean’s struggle and knowing it would take Sam far too long to get around, he summoned his ArchAngel powers, took one step to the side, reached out a hand, and smote the demon where she sat. 

Both brothers were silent as the heat dissipated, not used to remembering the sheer power that the former trickster possessed. But that only lasted a moment before the brothers snapped into motion. 

“Dean!” yelled Sam as he threw open the driver’s side, looking for lasting damage or open wounds. Dean paid him no mind, waving him off as his eyes were glued to the interior. 

“What the fuck, Gabriel!” shouted Dean. 

Gabriel leaned down into the passenger window, “I think the words you’re looking for are ‘Thank you.’” 

“I could have handled it.” Sam snorted. Dean glared. “Look at my car! You’re going to clean every single inch of her - top to bottom or so help me God.” 

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Sure thing, Big Guy.” 

And that’s how the three of them ended up sitting in complete silence, Sam and Gabriel in the backseat while Dean fumed in the front. 

The ride was long. Gabriel, unused to using so much power as to obliterate a demon in one go, felt he deserved a nap. And what better place to achieve that as well as advance his plan than Sam’s lap? 

Wordlessly, he stretched out his legs as much as the backseat allowed, laying his head on the hunter’s thigh and letting his feet dangle off the edge of the seat. 

Sam stuttered for a minute not knowing what to do with his hands, so that they just hovered at his shoulder length until Gabriel, eyes closed, reached up and brought once to rest on his shoulder, and the other on the windowsill Sam was leaning against. 

“Relax, Pumpkin, I’m not going to take advantage of you pre-post-fight-shower,” he said, snuggling in to the denim. “I’m just sleepy. I’ve earned it. Wake me up when we get back.” 

It was silent for a moment, and then Sam slouched just a bit into the seat back to get more comfortable. “Okay,” he breathed out quietly. 

As Gabriel drifted off into his nap, he could hear Dean mutter something from the front seat, and Sam give a defensive “Shut up.” 

Never opening his eyes, Gabriel decided to give the poor kid a boon. Wrinkling his nose, he cleaned the Impala’s interior in a second. Dean gave a whoop, but Sam was not surprised. The mess that he had inadvertently created wasn’t useful anymore.   
*.*.*.*

Sam Winchester was a lot of things, but apparently, subtle was not one of them. 

Either he didn’t understand what was happening, or he was hopelessly oblivious, and Gabriel was becoming increasingly bored. 

It was a Friday when Gabriel decided it was high time this game came to some kind of conclusion; the brothers had just finished an easy hunt, and with no other leads in sight, Dean insisted they stay at least another night to relax and take the edge off. Gabriel thought that it was just an excuse to sleep off the hangover he will inevitably incur a little longer than usual. Naturally, the Angel agreed, and outnumbered, Sam was dragged along for the ride. 

 

The air was hot. Stifling. The kind that makes you need to drink something cold to take your mind off of it. 

It was an old-school club, with smoky air that stuck to your clothes and hair and took you days to wash the smell out completely. The bass was loud, rocking the floor as well as the bodies dancing on it , creating a rhythm that hypnotized everyone who could see. 

And the trio could definitely see. Gabriel and Dean were sat at hightop close to the wall - one of the precious few seats that remained unoccupied - in perfect view of the dance floor, of the people dancing and swaying with abandon. 

The two watched the same way one watches a car crash… wondering, fascinated, but with no intention of stopping to explore the area, or to become part of the situation. 

Only when Sam dropped four beers and a pink daiquiri, complete with the mini umbrella, on the table between the men did they snap out of their trance. 

Gabriel greedily pulled the fruity drink towards him. 

He knew Sam was watching, eyeing the way the Angel’s mouth wrapped around the straw, how his throat constricted and opened to let the drink flow. Gabriel subtly sucked a tad harder, making sure his cheeks became indented and puckered. 

The tips of Sam’s ears grew red hot. As sweat beaded on the back of his neck, the young Winchester downed his beer, reaching for a second with no hesitation. 

“This song sucks,” Dean declared, though his fingers unconsciously tapped out the rhythm on his bottle. 

No one answered, except for vague nods in his general direction. Dean rolled his eyes, slumping back into the chair. 

A waitress walked by, her legs on full display under her short-skirted uniform. She had stopped by a nearby group, collecting her tip, making sure to look over her shoulder at the hunters, throwing a smile in their direction before continuing on her way. 

All eyes were on Dean, and he did not disappoint; in true Dean Winchester fashion, he wasted no time in taking his half-empty beer as well as his second and following the waitress, with only a wink at his brother as a “good-bye.”

Sam shook his head fondly, but said nothing. 

The two remaining hunters sat without addressing each other for a long while, until Gabriel decided around drink three that he had waited long enough. 

“I’m dancing,” he said. There was no preamble, no waiting for a response - he just went. 

Gabriel scoped the dance floor as he got closer, finding a small hole in the wall of people dancing, sliding in and becoming an entity unto himself. 

A thousand years of living bachelorhood had taught Gabriel a few things: (1) how to make a damn good martini, (2) what jokes not to tell the Pope, and (3) how to dance. 

His hips swayed, his arms lifted, his eyes closed. Gabriel felt the music up through his feet until it was all he could feel. 

A smile lifted, sweat beaded. 

Hands wandered. Someone approached him, a flirty smile. 

The smoke obscured the other man’s face, but he was tall - Gabriel liked tall. 

His hands linked behind the stranger’s neck, their hips found each other, friction built. 

The stranger leant in ever so slightly, Gabriel could feel their breath on his face. The Angel gripped the strangers hair.

He was not afraid. He could let it happen. 

He turned around. His ass pressed into the stranger’s hips now. Their hands tightened, wandered lower on the hips, but never too far. 

A nose grazed the Angel’s neck. The stranger was whispering something in his ear. He couldn’t say what.

_Thud. **Crash.**_

Eyes lock. 

He’s meters away, yards, feet, moving faster and faster towards him. 

Gabriel keeps eye contact, never blinking, always smiling, mischievous. 

Sam Winchester. Gabriel would know him even if the smoke were three feet thick. 

The hunter grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, dislodging the stranger effectively, swiftly. With surprising force from the hunter, Gabriel let himself be led away, not totally to somewhere private, but as close as they could get inside the club. Outside the bathrooms. 

“Can I help you, Sammy?” Gabriel asked innocently enough, even batting his eyelashes for emphasis. 

“Yeah, actually,” he huffed. “You can stop this shit. Now.” 

Gabriel blinked at the hunter’s language - that was usually Dean’s wheelhouse - but did not comment on it. Encouraged by the alcohol and pent up frustration, they were finally at least getting somewhere. 

“And what shit would that be, exactly?” 

Sam gestured wildly, “This… whole show you’re doing here tonight. Going out there and -and basically having sex on the dance floor with some random. He coulda been a murderer or some kind of creep and you’re just letting it happen.” 

Rolling his eyes, “Yes, Sammy, I - a millennia-old former Angel of God Himself - am afraid of a _creep._ Couldn’t possibly be able to defend myself against that one. Not to mention the two highly lethal _demon hunters_ sitting a few feet from me. I’ve got no chance at all, can’t even tell the difference.” 

Silence. The bass dropped. 

“We’re leaving,” Sam declared. He grabbed Gabriel’s hand, but Gabriel would not budge. “Gabriel.” 

“Not a chance, Sweetheart,” he said, licking his lips, “I was having fun out there, and I’m in the mood for some more.Unless you’re offering to take his place…” 

He let the sentence hang, his voice becoming smooth and silky as he slipped out of the hunter’s reach. Gabriel swaggered back onto the middle of the dance floor, finding his rhythm easily again. He had lost the man he was dancing with before, but within a minute he had another creeping up behind him. 

Gabriel leaned into the new man’s touch, resting the back of his neck on the other’s shoulder and feeling the briefest of touches on his cheek before the whole thing was pulled away from him. 

Sam had pulled the guy by the back of his shirt with so much force that he went stumbling, hitting the floor hard. 

“Come to dance, Darling?” Gabriel cooed. 

Sam took a deep breath before answering. “Stop calling me that,” he said. “Stop jerking me around.” 

The sway of Gabriel’s hips continued. “Not jerking you anywhere…yet. All you gotta do is ask though, and I’d gladly reconsider.” 

“Gab-“ 

“I’m over it, Sammy. I’m over waiting for you to realize what you want and do something about it. You don’t like that guy’s hands on me? Fine.” Gabriel took a step towards him, aligning their hips, grabbing Sam’s hands and guiding them to Gabriel’s sides. “But ask yourself why. It’s not the way it looks or the danger - or else you’d be running after Dean every damn day.” 

He could feel Sam’s hand tighten. “It’s because you don’t want someone else where you’re supposed to be. You know it. I know it.” Gabriel went up on the tips of his toes so they were eye-to-eye. “So do something about it.” 

The challenge hung between them, as thick as the smoke around them. 

Butterflies raged inside Gabriel’s stomach. As the seconds ticked by, he started ti doubt; maybe he had read the signs wrong. What would he do if Sam shoved him away right now, if all the signals were just nervousness because Sam could sense Gabriel’s attraction? 

What if?

 

Sam’s hands were sweating against Gabriel’s shirt. They itched. His heard hammered in his chest, his breath was coming quick. 

Now or never. 

_Now or Never._

His hips were already against the other man, he rolled them experimentally. Gabriel’s eyes got brighter, he fell off of his tiptoes. 

Sam smirked to himself, just a little, liking the effect that such a small gesture could make. He ducked his head, stopping just before their lips touched, teasing Gabe. It worked for half a breath before Gabriel closed the gap impatiently with a growl. Sam huffed out a laugh. 

Their kiss, starting out of frustration, was tender and sweet. Their mouths moved languidly together, against each other, their tongues coming out to dance in playful sweeps. 

Two pairs of hands roamed over their clothes, sometimes just scraping underneath a hemline, but always staying where they could be seen. Once or twice, these gestures ran over a particularly sensitive stretch of skin, causing them to squirm and shimmy, but whether or not it was towards or away from the other man’s grip is still in question. Their kisses were light, with smiles against closed lips, and giggles too low for anyone else to hear, just happy to feel complete and full. 

It was only when Sam grazed a particular spot under the waistband of Gabriel’s jeans, and instead of a laugh or a pinch, he gave a moan. The kind of moan that comes without warning, one from deep within the gut, one that sends shivers down Sam’s back before Gabriel forcibly cuts it off self-consciously. 

But it was too late; Sam had heard it, loud and clear. 

And he wanted to hear it again. 

Sam’s hands were already at the Angel’s waist, he moved them ever so slightly to pull at Gabriel’s belt loops rough enough to set him slightly off balance, falling into the hunter. Sam’s hold was tight, holding Gabriel to him, flush against his chest. He took the opportunity to grind their hips together, drawing another moan from the angel. 

The sounds of belt buckles coming undone rang loud and clear under the rolling bass of the club. Gabriel lid his hand inside Sam’s jeans - jeans that were entirely too tight to be legal - and just the mere presence of his hand over Sam was enough to make the hunter’s grip tighten and his breath come a bit faster. 

“Hey!” came a voice from their right - “Get a room!” 

The two men broke apart, Gabriel moving his head back, but not his hand. Sam swept sheepish eyes over their corner, raising a hand in apology to the woman who had spoken. 

“So what’ya say there, lover?” Gabriel asked, a smirk growing. “Want to get out of here?” 

Sam blushed and cleared his throat, “We should, we should, uh, tell Dean if we’re leaving -“

With one stroke of his hand, Gabriel had Sam gripping the wall and closing his eyes. 

“On second thought, he’ll figure it out,” he ground out. 

“Just what I was thinking.” The Angel removed his hand from the hunter’s groin, grabbing his hand and leading him through the throng of people, calling out “Coming through, we’re getting a room!” 

Sam laughed. 

*.*.*.*


End file.
